


Bed

by pisum_sativum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring, Dry Humping, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pisum_sativum/pseuds/pisum_sativum
Summary: There was one bed, always one for the two of them.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	Bed

**Author's Note:**

> (14/2/2020): minor edit.  
-fix grammatical errors and miscellaneous  
-special thanks to TurtleTomyRight who helped looking over my work <3 If any mistake remains, don't blame them. I did some tiny tweaks from the version they gave me. Other than that, enjoy!

There was one bed, always one for the two of them.

One of Sam's very first memories was of being in the middle, squeezed between snoring dad and Dean who curled around him, limbs trapping him in the safe space between him and dad so he didn't fall off the bed in the middle of the night.

There would also be dad's rhythmic snore permeating the silent night and Dean's quiet breathing warm against the back of his neck.

He remembered trying to wiggle out of Dean's leg stretched over his side, to pull away Dean's hot, hot hand that was planted on his chest, being sticky with sweat forming on his forehead from being tucked under too-thick blanket that used to be white but turned yellow with mottled brown spot all over. A rattling AC made so much noise that his older-self would suspect it to be haunted if not for that it didn't chill the room the smallest bit.

It was usually queen-sized bed. Plenty space for a grown man and two boys. There would be even more room at night when dad was gone. Just him and Dean, Dean who was so close that Sam thought would sprawl on top of him and pinned him to the mattress if he wasn't afraid Sam would suffocate. Those nights, Dean didn't sleep, Dean was literally breathing his skin instead of air and he would shift everytime Sam moved molding himself against Sam's body so they're all pressed together. Sam could almost feel their skins melting into one like Dean was trying to substitute for the negative space dad left.

There was too much empty space, sea of yellowy-white threatening to drown him, or both of them, not just him because Dean told dad to get twin beds instead when he was gone more often. It was a novel feeling that he could spread his arm on the right and feel nothing but air and headboard. Dean relaxed more too, dozing and jerking awake, his knees nudging Sam's calves from behind.

Sam liked it more, he loved that he could shove the blanket to Dean who devoured it all, tucked under from chin to toes. The only downside was that he needed to share the pillow with Dean too and Dean wasn't exactly sharing it with him. The second pillow from the other bed--dad's-- did not fit here except if Sam placed it over Dean's head but the crick in the neck he got just from imagining the pillow that high made him dismiss the idea.

Dean's bicep made an acceptable substitute and Dean would not complain too much about not being able to feel his arm if Sam returned with the reason he was using sleeping on it in the first place. 

Then Dean was so quiet long enough Sam was starting to be afraid and Dean started tickling him under his arms until he squealed and flailed around on the carpet that smelled of cigarettes and dust. Sweet relief throbbing inside him made it almost alright that dad was not there.

It went on like that, dad going a little longer, Dean pressing a little closer that Sam thought their skins were going to get stuck together forever, and the bed was not growing with the size of their bodies. They were always touching on bed even without Dean trying.

Dean was a bit too warm next to him, wracking cough against his shoulder blade, hot and wet. Sam was pretty sure it was a spray of saliva on his skin and plenty of germs, eww. He wiped the germs back on Dean's shirt, right where it belonged. They barely slept that night, with Dean tossing and turning and trying 163 different sleeping positions that would end up with both of Dean's feet on his face if Sam didn't smack them away in time. Dean still couldn't find a comfortable position.

Sam said fuck it(maybe not out loud) carrying the blanket that Dean kept shoving off that night. He heaved the unreasonably heavy piece if sh-- sheet, excuse him, the lack of sleep was making him cranky, on top of their duffel bag and some random stuff that was strewn over the empty bed while his brother was staring blankly. He jumped back to bed before his creative brother came up with the 164th pose. He turned away from the slant grayish glow from the window to face Dean's side of the bed. There was a confused grunt when Sam claimed the pillow for himself. He frowned to himself that there wasn't more reaction than that from Dean. He pulled Dean closer by the worn-soft shirt that was a bit sticky and clung to clammy skin underneath, rolling Dean's head to rest on his own arm. It probably wasn't as comfortable as when he was sleeping on Dean's and he said goodbye to the feeling of his fingertips. He used his other arm to bring Dean's head close, tucked in under his neck, blond hair tickling his chin. He arched his neck a little at that.

"Sammy," Dean whispered hoarse against the base of his throat, forehead damp and burning and nuzzling closer for comfort. Sam patted the back of Dean's head, pressing closer the way Dean liked to do, an ankle hooking around his brother's calf. Dean wiggled his toe against Sam's foot and hitched his knees higher to wedge between Sam's thighs.

"Mmm," Sam hummed in reply, stifling a giggle seeing the funny way Dean's soft hair stick back up after he ran his fingers over it. Dean's grip on his wrist and fake slap stopped him from doing more. When Dean's grip slackened, he guided it under his own shirt, to the slightly left of his chest where his heart rested. He liked feeling Dean's heartbeat. When they're pressed together closed enough, he could feel it against his back. He thought Dean would like to feel his too.

"Can you feel it?" Sam leaned down a little to say against Dean's ear, but ready to slap him if he heard the word "girly" from his brother's mouth.

"Uhh." Dam felt rather than saw a nod, soft and sleepy like Dean's body was becoming, making Sam felt content with himself that he didn't entirely fail in taking care of his big brother when he needed it. Sam almost forgave him for lost hours of sleep and his sleeping arm.

Dean jerked away, rolling away as far as the mattress allowed as he realized he was the one taking comfort from Sam not other way around. He almost yanked Sam going along with him with one hand still inside Sam's pajamas. Sam ended up on Dean's other side, nearly thrown out of bed if not for an arm wrapping tightly on his waist.

"Gotcha."

*

Both of them woke the day after sick and feverish.

*

Their problem was that the bed didn't grow with their bodies.

When Dean hit grow spurt, suddenly his legs and elbows were everywhere. Sam didn't think he got a night he didn't sleep on some part of Dean.

John was pretty much away that there was no real need for the second bed on most nights, and he was happy enough to trade it for extra cash that could be spent for weapons.

Sam and Dean would wait just outside the building while John went inside to the front desk. Duffels resting by their mud-crusted shoes, strap loosely wrapped around their arms. Sam sitting on sun-bleached plastic chair leaning his heavy head to Dean's middle as he stood near, waiting for their father's signal.

John, when he was there, would crash on any convenient surface not bothering to ask for extra mattress: couch, carpet, sometimes bathroom floor if there wasn't anywhere else. He didn't seem to mind much, having slept in much worse places but he would no doubt claim his place on the bed if Sam and Dean were not sharing the post for one person.

By the time Sam started to shoot up in height and they were packed like sardines, John asked if they needed the second bed. Sam was thrilled by the idea of having some sliver of privacy of his own but also found it overwhelming.

"No, sir."

John looked at them a second too long. "Tell me if you change idea."

*

It was in the middle of the night when Dean roused him. He could hear an owl hooting. Sam was groggy, the sticky wetness on gray cotton shorts to his ass was almost pleasant.

Dean was just outside the bathroom door with a wad of tissue in his hand. He ordered Sam to change and handed him a fresh pair of sleep boxers.

Sam was muddled enough by sleep that he just followed Dean's order. He barely noticed the scent in the air that was both familiar and unfamiliar. His thumbs were under the elastic and he started to pull down when he stopped, suddenly self-conscious. He fled and pulled on a new pair under the flicking bathroom light.

Dean did the laundry the day after even when the last time was just two days ago.

The next time John came back, Dean asked for twin beds.

A bed all by himself was swallowing him. Couldn't breathe. He tried to sneak to Dean but was pushed away.

A whole pillow, space to stretch out. Reality was disappointing. He wanted to crawl back to bed with Dean.

The following week passed in mood darker than coffee Dean was downing like crazy. It became espresso after Dean calling him a girl.

Sam understood about Dean's 163 poses to get comfortable. He laid on his side, to the left, facing funky lilac wall, to the right, to see Dean wrapped in cover also trying to fall asleep. Curled in a fetal position. On his back. On his stomach. With one leg propped up. With both. Stick his hand under the pillow. Spread out like a starfish.

He was about to prop his feet against the headboard when he finally understood that it was not about really about all the empty space, or the bed. The main reason was the lack of Dean.

Dean was being stupid and both of them were suffering for it.

There was a volcano between them, hot and fuming and ready to explode at any moment.

Dad noticed when he came back the next time, bloody and bruised but with a victorious curve of his lips that could be a smile on someone else.

He asked Dean again if it was what he wanted before he paid for the room.

Dean's answer was positive.

_ No.  _ Sam didn't say it out loud but Dean was glaring at him like he heard.

"Whatever going on between you two, I don't care what it is, but it has to stop. Understand?" John said two motels later when he keyed the room they were lucky and unlucky enough to take. Lucky because it was the only hotel in who knew how many miles, unlucky because it was the only room available not counting the ridiculously expensive suite the Winchesters never took and would never take.

"Yes, sir," two of them echoed.

John taking one side of the only queen-sized bed in the room meant an armistice.

Dean still took the sofa after John was gone.

"Would you just stop it already?" It sounded frustrated and tight, lest it would become mindless pleading but Sam didn't want to be childish and needy.

"Stop what, Sammy? Want Cartoon Network?" Dean waved the remote and flicked through channels. The cushion sank so low and almost slid off to the floor and Sam was pretty sure he saw a spring digging at Dean's hip.

Anger burnt like a rotten corpse under lighter fluid. Dean was not even fucking comfortable. "Sam," he corrected, his voice hard and shaped like a blade. "You can't sleep. Neither can I. I'm not a 3 year-old anymore. I know you had a fucking wet dream. Guess what? I don't care. You're my brother. You belong  _ here _ ."  _ Here _ , he growled out low, possessive and commanding.

The bubbly tone of Spongebob and that baritone of Patrick didn't lighten the mood.

"Stop being stupid and come back." It came out shaky. His throat was suddenly tight that it came out like a plea. He needed to drink more water, he noted to himself. 

Dean looked stunned, bottle-green eyes widened and it gave Sam an almost painful tug somewhere in his chest. When he spoke again, it was "Wow, you swore."

"Fuck you." Sam was rubbing his neck. He was so, so exhausted.

"And you too," Dean replied cheekily but it was a rote. He couldn't tell what Dean was thinking.

The bed was big, big, big. Empty space that threatened to drown him but Dean was here to keep him floating above the tide. He was so glad that Dean was here even if he could feel a carefully crafted space near his butt. He missed Dean there too. He was not going to say it; he had said more than he had meant to already.

"It can happen again," Dean muttered. 

Sam almost missed it, and maybe that's the point. "If it happens, it happens. We clean up. That's it." He squeezed Dean's arm firmly at that.

Sam was drifting away when he felt Dean's question again, asked in a deceptively casual tone. "Isn't it disgu--"

"No!" Sam said forcefully, cutting Dean off before he could finish. "It's just a biological function." He could feel the tip of his ears turning red at that and was glad Dean couldn't see that.

*

That, and they were back to a single-bed basis.

*

Sam's growth left him inches taller than his brother and he had to swap place with Dean to spoon behind him to mostly fit in the bed that they pushed against the wall. His feet were off the bed, hanging in the air. But it was better than to his shin the other way around. It was Sam breathing against Dean's neck. He discovered the newfound joy of breathing in his brother. He smelt like plain soapbar and sweat. And it felt so, so good.

Sleeping like this made him feel exposed without Dean covering his back. But Dean was always in his sight like this.

Dean's forearm was against the small of Sam's back in a position that Sam was as sure as hell wasn't comfortable locking their bodies together. Sam laced his arms under Dean's armpit and knotted it on his chest to feel the heartbeat. He straddled both thighs on Dean's slim waist.

It was not a good way to sleep. Sam was sure his shoulder and neck pain was from this as much as hunching over books. Gosh, he felt old already.

The more tangled they were, the less likely that Sam thrashing anyone out of bed, the less he would hurt Dean with his flailing limbs.

In his sleep, Sam was moaning against his brother's bristly hair and grinding deep and slow to Dean's ass. He woke as he cummed, orgasm coursing the muscle in powerful waves.

The last bit of pleasure ebbed away and Sam realized this was real. It took him too long because it was also Dean in his hormonal fantasy.

He wanted the ground to open up and sucked him under. He wanted to sink down to the depth of Mariana Trench where he had disposed of his inappropriate feelings where they would stay until he died, or until they were subducted and disappeared from the surface of the Earth.

It was a deja vu. Dean told him to change with a bunched-up toilet paper in his hand. The blind was drawn and dark gloom concealed his hot face.

Words he had said to Dean when their situation had been reversed came back to haunt him.

Karma sucked.

He took a cold shower, nevermind that it was freezing and the heater didn't work properly for so long time that his fingertips almost turned blue. He let out a small sigh of relief when he saw Dean already asleep.

The next day, Dean decided it was time for the Talk.

In the ideal family, this role was performed by one of the parents who happened to draw the short straw. Even the one liked his, it was usually the role of a parent, of  _ John _ .

Dean started with the reproductive system. For once, Dean talked like he had swallowed the biology textbook (or studied it beforehand). Dean probably got an A plus if this were an exam. He explained the mechanism of intercourse and where to, uh, penetrate. He even printed out illustrations, half of which could come out of his Campbell text, the other half was probably screenshots from his favorite porn.

Dean moved on to prevention just before Sam died.

"The best prevention is abstinence," Sam said, hoping that miracle existed.

"Dude, even you can't stay a virgin forever. Your dick will be tired of your right hand one day."

Sam threw his head back to rest against the wall, closing his eyes and breathed deeply. "I have my left. Can we just stop here?" he snapped, rubbing both hands over his face. He would swear to be single the rest of his life just for this to stop.

Dean had a  _ dude-seriously _ look on his face, Sam saw through his fingers, eyebrows drawn up one higher than the other and mouth slightly-opened. Then he started about condom.

"They taught this in health class, y'know? I know how it worked." the memory of putting condom on a slippery cucumber would haunt him to his deathbed.

Dean looked relieved, crossing the room and drew a box Sam wanted to believe was chewing gum and threw from across the room. Sam caught it on reflect. "Good. Show me."

Sam handled the thing like a hazardous waste, peeking inside the grocery bag, praying it was not banana Dean had bought. Cucumber was much better.

"No banana," Dean said like he was reading Sam's mind. But there was neither zucchini nor cucumber inside the bag. Somehow acceptance was trickling down to fill is mind.  _ This too shall pass,  _ he thought to himself.

"Nope. We're using something more real."

Sam found himself thinking about neon-orange dildo, which was pretty unreasonable. If Dean had one, he thought it would be some milder colors.

He never wanted to know.

"C'mon. Just get this over and done with." Dean nudged his chin toward--oh god, oh god, no. Sam was not a prude but using the real one seemed too extreme.

"Strip," Dean said with an impatient snap of his fingers.

Sam should have protested, wracking his mind to find reasons they shouldn't do this. But his mind was blown to dust and his fingers were stumbling working their way to unzip the jeans.

Damn, he was taking so long. He had been undressing himself since he was five and he couldn't do it now? Damn. Damn.

The five-year-old self in him wanted to stop and bury his face in Dean's shoulder until it felt better.

But Dean was the one making him feel like this, making his organs jumbled all together.

Dean looked annoyed at his slowness. God knew he would do it for Sam if it wouldn't make it all so awkward.

Then it was the matter of waking up his little brother. Anxiety didn't help that at all. He thought distantly that he  _ could  _ have some more privacy. It was a little messed-up that Dean was watching him the whole time. Even more fucked-up was that his dick was hard because of Dean's unwavering gaze. 

Somehow he got the condom on right. Dean was giving tips and instructions along the way.

He hoped Dean didn't notice how interested he was when Dean inspected the work, or if he noticed, brushed it off as nerve.

With a small nod of approval, Sam ripped the damn thing off himself.

"No. Your cum will be everywhere like that. Again. From the base," Dean said, like they were working through some drills not in the middle of sex education from hell.

Sam put on and pulled off again, more careful his time. Dean's gaze on him was as intent as the first time. He threw the slimy rubber into the bin. His cock felt tight and sensitive straining against the flyer when Sam buttoned his jeans.

His throat was still as dry as sand but he could finally breathe again.

This was not normal. Brother didn't give brother sex talk. It wasn't normal that they slept in the same bed. It wasn't normal he was lost and insomniac when Dean was out hunting with dad and away.

His life shrank to counting hours, wringing hands together as he paced. He rummaged the dirty laundry for Dean's and put them on to smell him, to fool his body that Dean was here and he could finally sleep.

Dean caught him one time. It had been weeks that Dean was away. They had been late and out of contact for almost as long. Sam had forgone sleeping and relied on black coffees to keep him awake.

Ha had too much the night before and crashed.

He was ready to sing hallelujah when Dean didn't comment. He'd extracted Dean's laundry from his own and made a goddamn nest on their bed with them.

Sam's dick made sure to remind him how neglected it was now that Dean was back. Touching himself had been in the bottom of to-do list when Dean was away.

When Sam felt himself, he was rocking on Dean, rubbing his erected length against Dean's buttcrack. He felt so wet and he was making sound that was obscene even to his own ears. His higher thinking wasn't awake with the rest of him so when Dean turned around to press his palm on his mouth, he was licking against the warm, slightly salty patch he could reach with his tongue and let out a muffled moan.

"Shhh," Dean whispered.

Oh, John was here too, just a few feet away and an incredibly light sleeper. So they had to be more quiet then.

Dean's front was almost pressed to his. Sam grinded them together. Dean was also interested and half-hard. He let out a surprised yelp as they touched.

"Shhh." It was Sam's turn to whisper. He pushed his thumb between Dean's plump lips.

With his leg slotted between Dean's, he was moving his crotch up and down Dean's thigh. The friction felt so amazing. He made sure Dean could feel the same on his own thigh too. Dean was biting hard on his thumb, he shoved it deeper until he could feel Dean's lips on it too.

Sam was not rocking alone anymore. Dean was also moving against him. They were letting out small, silent pants, their breaths joined.

Sam loved this and pulled down his sleeping pants so his naked sex could feel Dean's hot skin but Dean shook his head, glancing to John, sleeping and clueless to what his sons were doing together.

They picked up their rhythm, getting faster until they felt the bed starting to protest.

Sam was staring at Dean as he climaxed, taking in the blown-wide eyes and ecstatic expression in the grey light.

They continued until Sam could felt the wetness against his own thigh. When he did, Dean was also looking at him, drinking him in.

By their silent conversation-agreement, they didn't wash up. Doing so would wake up John. They were pushing their luck as was already. They were more-or-less clean after wiping themselves with the sorry, wrinkled piece of napkin Sam blew his nose with before bed. But it was better than nothing.

They didn't talk. Talking would mean what happened was real. It was just a wet dream, Sam told himself. One that he was awake enough to remember vividly. Dean happened to have one at the Same time. That's it. Nothing more.

Until it happened again. John wasn't there so they didn't have to be quiet. Dean's name was on Sam's lips. It became the most sacred chant, and Dean kept moaning "Sammy". Sam was too breathless to correct him.

Sam held onto the small of Dean's bare back, planting his face into the crook of Dean's neck. He felt warm skin and slick sweat. Sam dipped down to bite hard at Dean's clavicle. Dean arched his back and Sam felt him breathing hard. His heart welling in his chest that it was him having this effect on Dean.

Dean stopped rocking and Sam jerked when he felt rough, warm hand enveloping his dick.

The small roll of Dean's chin told him to relax. It was the first time someone else touched him. The pace was not what he was used to but it was the pace Dean probably used to jerk himself off.

Sam blindly grasped at Dean's dick too, filled with an overwhelming desire to see Dean cummed with his own hand.

The angle was awkward. Their arms kept bumping into each other but they got off, first Sam and then Dean after few minutes. He liked to think it was because this was his first time doing this other than the fact that Dean was better, more practiced with his hand.

He was about to go clean up but Dean was already sleeping. He was getting sleepy himself and figured it was not a bad idea to wipe himself clean with Dean's sleep pants.

Dean didn't stir.

Sam wanted this forever. He wanted nothing to change.

But he knew it was too good to be true. Their universe was too cruel to allow that.

*

Too soon was their last night together. After, he would be at Stanford, at the start of his new, normal life.

They were alone. John was out, probably at the bar drinking his ass out.

He wanted to give Dean something. Something precious, but not precious because of its monetary value. Something that would remind Dean of him, of  _ them _ . This night was his last chance. 

"I miss a credit," Sam said, hoping his quivering was not so obvious.

Dean nodded, listening. He was still cleaning the already shining gun. "What credit?"

Sam hated that Dean's voice was as polished as the weapon in his hand.

"AP Sex Education."

"Dunno it exists. Woulda taken it if I did."

"At school, no."

Dean threw the rag on the table followed by the gun, much more gently. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you inside me," Sam enunciated clearly.  _ I want you to take my virginity, every bit of it you haven't taken yet. _ No one had ever touched him before. No one but Dean in those nights they blamed hormone and their traitorous bodies. It was the most precious thing he had. He wanted Dean to have it.

He closed the distance and kissed Dean's mouth before it could emit any sound of protest.

It was a shit kiss, messy and not at all romantic. Sam had never kissed ever one ever since Dean had decided kissing was not a manly enough thing to do. Given how out of practice he was, he didn't think he fared too bad.

Dean was still as a sculpture. He stayed like that until Sam stopped and Dean pushed space between them. "No. we're not doing this."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

_ Because we're brother and this was incest. Because this is so fucked-up. Because I don't want you. Because. Because. _

He needed to know, needed his heart to be broken enough that he would never wonder again.

"Because no! We--we can't! I say so. That's why."

"But you want me." He wanted Dean to fuck him or break him to millions pieces. There was no in-between.

"That's not the point!" Dean looked flustered. His voice was strangely reedy.

"Then what is?"

"Nothing. You're wasting my time. The gun isn't going to clean itself."

"Look I," Sam swallowed. They didn't have time for this. "I've never been with anyone before. I sorta want this to be my first."

"No. not gonna hurt you."

"You won't. We'll go slowly." Dean's rejection seemed more uncertain.

"You sure want this? We-we're--"

Sam squeezed Dean's mouth shut before he could finish. "I want this. Now shut up."

"Condom first."

The initial pain was worth the pleasure that came after. He wanted Dean inside him for so long he forgot he wanted to go to Stanford in the first place.

His heart welled up with Dean inside him. He made Dean bite him again and again.

When he got to Stanford, he changed to a low-neck, bearing the row of Dean's marks for the world to see, to know that he was Dean's.

People stared. Sam couldn't stop himself from staring back.

He met Jess. It was nothing less than destiny bringing two souls together. 

They understood each other so well because they were doing the same thing: escaping their past and trying to be normal. One-night stand Sam was looking for turned out to be a much more serious relationship.

Jess didn't ask why Sam thrashed around so much or why he refused to stay in the same bed with her after they fucked. He didn't ask why she screamed herself hoarse to the pillow at night.

"You deserve better," Sam said to her one day. If he could love anyone other than Dean, it would be her.

"And you too," she replied.

In the midst of normalcy, Dean showed up. Sam and Jess had perfected the acting. No one except themselves thought they were anything but normal.

Jess asked him to stay but secretly she must be glad to have a break from him even if she would never say that out loud.

Sam pulled her aside before getting into the Impala.

"If i don't come back, forget me. Go find someone who can look after you."

She nodded. She understood life was not rainbow and unicorn. She knew good things could be ripped out and turned to hell at any moment.

"Take care of yourself, Sam."

"I will try," he replied, knowing she liked honesty more than empty promise.

"Let that brother of you do it. He cares of you very much."

"I know." Sam pulled her into a long hug, somehow sensing it would be the last time they could.

In the car, he closed her eyes and it was like he never left. Years at Stanford with Jess blurred around the edge like a good dream.

Stepping into the motel was like stepping back home. Lady at the front desk stopped chewing her gum long enough to ask, "Double?"

Dean looked at him.

"Single's fine," Sam found himself saying.

"You're leaving?" Dean asked like it was not a big deal but his teeth was clenched too tight.

"No, no. I mean--" Sam glanced at the peeling wallpaper, anywhere but Dean."We can change the room if you want."

"You're leaving?" Dean asked again, needing to hear the answer.

Sam thought he heard a small hope in Dean's question. "I'm staying."

The bed was too small for both of them. Creaky wooden frame groaned from their combined weight. The last time they were together Sam hadn't quite grown into his frame yet.

Sam stripped off his shirt and jeans as per usual, and Sam saw he was not the only one suffering from their separation. Only Dean was the one who paid with his blood. 

How many of Dean's scars were preventable if he were with Dean to guard his back?

Sam had to focus on how grateful he was to have Dean alive and mostly alright right here with in bed with him.

  
  



End file.
